


Away

by sourwulfur



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Abandonment, Allison is a Stilinski, Alpha Stiles, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Beacon Hills is changed, Beta Allison, Deputy Stiles, Derek fails at plans, Hale Pack left, Mayor Allison, Multi, Out of scene massacre, Return, Reunions, Sheriff in the know, Town in the know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwulfur/pseuds/sourwulfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years ago, Derek and company left Allison, Stiles, and Danny in Beacon Hills. It was for their own protection, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. However, the best laid plans of mice and men... Upon returning to Beacon Hills, Derek quickly finds out that nothing is the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Away

**Author's Note:**

> So, two parts. Let's do this. Second part will be quite a bit longer than the first.

It was dark when Derek, Peter, Isaac, Scott, Jackson, and Lydia rolled back into Beacon Hills. Downtown was bursting with activity due to the winter festival. Flurries fell from the sky, mixing prettily with the Christmas lights and decorations hung up everywhere. Derek’s grip tightened on the steering wheel in the first car (which he shared with Isaac and Scott) red eyes flashing in the dim lighting as both he and Scott noticed a few flashing yellow eyes in the bustling crowd on either side of the street while Isaac slept in the back seat. “Werewolves, here?” questioned Scott shakily, trying his best to remain calm enough that they did not wake Isaac until it was necessary. “What are they doing...?”

 

“I don't _know_ , Scott,” Derek replied through clenched teeth.

 

“This is supposed to be unoccupied territory. We left! Stiles and...”

 

“I _know_ , Scott!” snapped the alpha, turning his red eyes on his beta for only a moment.

 

Scott mumbled an apology and cowered down into his seat more. Derek sighed, running a hand through his hair, keeping a tight grip on the steering wheel with the other. Once they reached the old Hale house, Derek ordered Scott to find and talk to Stiles. Jackson, Isaac, and Peter were going to scout the woods while Derek and Lydia went to talk to Deaton. “Something doesn't feel right,” she mumbled, wringing her hands in the passenger seat of the Camaro as Derek drove. Derek wanted to comfort her, but he had no idea what to say, feeling as uneasy as she did. “Maybe we shouldn't have left.”

 

Meanwhile, Scott frowned as he stopped the second, slightly larger (at least in terms of room for passengers) car outside of Sheriff Stilinski's home. There were lights on, but Scott did not hear a single heartbeat inside. Using the spare key still on his keyring, Scott unlocked the front door and let himself in with a soft sigh of relief at the fact that it still worked. “Stiles?” he called, even though his senses told him that he was alone.

 

The feeling did not last too long, however, and Scott tensed when he saw a flash of red eyes in a darkened corner that he knew did not belong to Derek. “Who are you?” questioned Scott through a low growl, focusing so intently on the unknown alpha that he missed a second person coming into the room until she spoke.

 

“Oh, Scott, behave,” he heard a very familiar voice, causing him to stumble back in surprise even before a light was turned on so that he could _see_ Allison, her eyes flashing electric blue as she walked over to where Stiles was standing in the no-longer-dark corner. “That would be my brother, the alpha,” Allison said with a faint smirk as she draped one of her arms over her brother’s nearest shoulder.

 

The look of disbelief on Scott’s face was enough to have the Stilinski werewolves chuckling under their breaths, sharing a look before focusing on the Hale Pack beta once again. “Aw, c’mon, Scotty. You didn’t _really_ think the pack leaving Beacon Hills would protect us poor humans, did you?” questioned Stiles, an amused glint to his eye that was borderline terrifying.

 

“I don’t understand,” Scott stated as he shook his head, looking between the love of his life and his best friend. “What _happened_?”

 

“New pack came to town. They tried to kill the town, we got bit trying to stop them, Stiles killed the alpha, took on the pack yadda-yadda,” answered Allison as she studied her nails that were painted red. “Danny’s still human, if you’re curious. He doesn’t want the bite and we’ll do all we can to make sure what happened to us never happens to him.”

 

“Welcome to the new and not necessarily improved Beacon Hills,” Stiles stated as he rolled his shoulders in a way that popped his back and made Scott wince from the sound. “So, where is that alpha of yours, Scotty?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia and Derek stood silently outside of Deaton's practice, or where it used to be, anyway. The windows were boarded up, the signs gone, and newspapers from over a year prior covered the glass of the front door. “Excuse me,” Lydia said softly, catching the attention of a group walking by from the festival. “What happened to the clinic that used to be here?”

 

“You don't know?” one of the women in the group questioned with a furrowed brow. When Lydia shook her head, the woman frowned. “Alan Deaton was killed about a year and a half ago by some rogue omegas.”

 

Both Derek and Lydia tensed at the information, their surprise and sorrow easily read. “You're not a werewolf,” commented Lydia after a moment. “How do you know?”

 

“About them” The woman chuckled bitterly and shook her head before she really answered. “After that pack came in and tried to wipe our town out, it was impossible to keep it a secret from us. Town authorities work with the local pack to ensue the safety of Beacon Hills. We want to avoid another massacre.”

 

“Do... do you know what happened to Stiles Stilinski or Allison Argent?” questioned Lydia slowly, asking what she knew Derek could not bring himself to.

 

The woman's lips twisted into a faint smirk, but she said, “They're both alive. Stiles is everyone's favorite deputy, and Miss Stilinski is now our mayor. The sheriff officially adopted her not long before the invasion.”

 

Both Lydia and Derek let out sighs of relief at the information on their friends just as Derek’s phone started to play Scott's ringtone. “What?” answered Derek with a bit more snap to his voice than was intended. “Sorry, Scott. What is it?”

 

“Uhm, I think... I think you should bring the rest of the pack to the Stilinski's; like, now,” replied Scott, trying to steady his wavering voice.

 

Derek’s brow furrowed, but he hung up the phone and turned around to get back into the car. Lydia didn't ask, just followed suit. “We're picking up the others,” he said to her as he sent a text to the other three to be ready for pick-up outside the house. “Scott says we need to get to Stiles'.”

 

The drive back to the Hale house was silent, both of the car's occupants too lost in their own thoughts to try to force a conversation. It was no different once Peter, Isaac, and Jackson squeezed into the back seat. Isaac worried at his lip the entire drive over to the familiar Stilinski house. When they got there, Jackson was the first to point out the notable absence of Stiles' Jeep. In its place were two sleek, black cars with tinted windows that had Lydia mumbling under her breath about things changing and not liking it. The sheriff's cruiser was not parked with the cars, so, they were assuming that John Stilinski was not home.

 

Entering the house felt weird, like trespassing on uninvited territory. Derek could not keep himself from tensing, though he focused on the familiar, slightly elevated sound of Stiles' heartbeat. Something was different. Derek could not put a finger on it until they were all in the living room and he saw Stiles as Stiles spoke to Allison. “Oh my god,” Derek mumbled under his breath.

 

Stiles paused his conversation to smile over at Derek. “Hello, Derek. Long time, no see,” the young deputy stated, crossing his arms over his chest with a faint smirk. “Welcome, even if you did not ask for the proper _permission_.”

 

The newer alpha's eyes flashed red, though his grin never faded, as Derek’s pack seemed to find relief in the formal grant to be there. “Stiles, you're... an alpha,” Jackson stammered after a moment, his hand absentmindedly finding Lydia's to link their fingers together. “How?”

 

“Short story: pack came to town, tried to kill _everyone_ , turned a bunch of people. I took out the alpha and a new Beacon Hills pack was formed. My pack.” Stiles voice mixed with a low growl as he spoke, growing angrier by the moment. “Not that any of you gave enough of a shit about us to check your old phones to learn this information.”

 

Allison placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently as she said, “You left us here to take care of ourselves, and we did.”

 

“This is not...” Derek began to say, scowling when Stiles interrupted him with a bitter laugh.

 

“What you wanted?” questioned Stiles. “Yeah, well, neither did I; but, y'know, for not having any choice in this, Allison and I have adapted rather well. There's no more secrets in town, and despite the losses we've suffered, we've began to start over.”

 

“Stiles, I...”

 

“You _what_ , Derek? You're sorry? Fuck your apology. I don't want to hear it. You left me, didn't give me any forewarning or say in the matter. You just _left_.” Stiles let out a faint, exasperated sound before uncrossing his arms to clench his fists at his side. “None of you were here to bury Deaton. None of you even pretended to look back until you believed Beacon Hills was monster free. Did you _really_ think that because you left the danger would pass?”

 

Stiles began pacing as Allison leaned back against the wall and took over speaking for him. “You left, but the danger didn't follow you like you had hoped. We called and texted, asking for you to come back, asking for your help. The alpha pack never came back, but you left _unclaimed_ territory, and everyone wanted it.” She studied Stiles as he paced, absently wetting her lips as she tried to decide what to say next. A slight nod from her brother was enough for her to make the decision. “You may stay in Beacon Hills. It is Christmas, after all. Do us all a favor, though. Don't stay in the Hale house unless you fix it up. You give the rest of us a bad name living in that place.”

 

Allison knew why Derek and Peter felt an attachment to the remnants of their old home, but it was time for them to let that go. If the Hale pack was going to stay on their territory, then Allison would be the first to push them in the direction of letting go that they needed, the direction they had been going in before the pack had up and left. “You can go now,” Stiles said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He was done with seeing the lot of them. It hurt, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to lash out at all of them, to make them feel every bit of hurt and anger that he and Allison had dealt with since they left. Instead, he just took a deep breath and went into the kitchen so he could start dinner for himself, his sister, and his father.

 

Scott looked from the doorway that Stiles had disappeared through to Allison and back a few times before he sighed and stood up, lowering his gaze when Allison glared at him. “I.. uhm... for what it's worth. I am sorry things...” Scott started to apologize, slowly trailing off when Allison practically growled at him.

 

“Save it, Scott. I don't want to hear any apologies. They don't do any good,” she stated, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she straightened up. “You all should leave now. The sheriff will not be happy if he shows up and you're here. The lot of you are on his shit list, especially you, Derek.”

 

By the time Sheriff Stilinski got home, the pack had cleared out, and Allison was setting the table while Stiles finished making their dinner. The three of them talked about their days while they ate, Allison going over some new ideas for town legislature that had made its way to her desk that day, while Stiles and his dad told her about the Baker family, who was having issues with their son's delinquent behavior. “I think Stiles got the kid scared straight, though,” John Stilinski said with a smirk before he took a drink of the red wine in his glass, chuckling a little at the pink tint that colored his son's face. “The kid practically hero-worships Stiles, now.”

 

“Oh?” questioned Allison with a soft giggle as she stirred her pasta around her plate absently. “He decided he wanted to be a werewolf too, then?”

 

“I told him to ask again when he was eighteen and knew what he was getting in to,” Stiles said and shrugged a little. He had no intentions of ever actually turning the kid, but at the same time, if someone seriously wanted the bite, and he made sure they knew _exactly_ the danger they would be in, he wouldn't turn them away but only if they were old enough. He did not want another rag-tag group of teenagers causing chaos in town.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles closed his eyes and let out a breath that he did not realize that he had been holding. He was standing near the town border in the woods, watching for any trace of the pack he could sense circling around the town as they had been for weeks. It was setting him on edge, and there was nothing he could do until the other pack made contact. If he left the town, it was very likely they would just kill him. He did not know exactly what they wanted, and he would not know until the pack's alpha made some kind of contact.

 

He knew he was not alone that evening, however. Derek was near by. Even if he did not have his werewolf senses, Stiles would have known Derek was there. Stiles had always been able to sense Derek’s presence so much easier than anyone else's. “What are you doing here?” questioned Stiles as he looked over toward his right, where Derek was unsuccessfully trying to remain unseen. The other alpha had forgotten that Stiles had heightened senses. The dark was no longer a hindrance for the hyper-active boy that had wormed his way into Derek’s life.

 

“I wanted to talk,” Derek answered with a soft sigh, slowly walking toward Stiles, “and to see if you were okay.”

 

“I'm peachy-keen, Sourwolf,” replied Stiles, flashing the smile that he had always been famous for, the one that gave nothing of his thoughts away. “You know, for how things are.”

 

Derek swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair before hesitantly reaching out with it to gently squeeze Stiles' shoulder. He did not miss the way that Stiles tensed under the touch but he did not pull away, and neither did Stiles. “Tell me everything, Stiles,” mumbled Derek as he loosened his grip but left his hand resting on Stiles' shoulder.

 

“What do you want me to tell you, Derek? That everything went fine for a few weeks until the other packs started descending? That Allison and I were nearly killed trying to keep things a secret until half the town was wiped out? That they kidnapped my dad so that when they turned me I could kill him? That I killed _them_ instead?” Stiles eyes flashed red as he mentioned having killed those that had turned him, his captors, the ones that had tormented him before turning him. “They wanted Allison and I to rip him apart, to join them. So, I tore the alpha's throat out with my hands; and, together, Allison and I destroyed that entire pack, taking in those that the alpha had turned in town, and those that had been held hostage, taken from town to town.”

 

Since then, Beacon Hills had become a safe haven for omega werewolves, for any wandering werewolf that needed a place to stay for a few days, a few weeks, or even forever. Those who came looking for trouble found themselves faced with a police force that not only knew how to take out werewolves, but had a few in their ranks. Then, there was Allison, Miss City Mayor. Beacon Hills was no longer a sleepy, defenseless town. It was thriving in a way that Derek’s parents used to wish, with the supernatural and the human working as one. It was terrifying to think that people who could so easily wipe them out were willing to help, and while Derek may not trust the townsfolk, Stiles did. That was enough for him.

 

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but still did not move his hand from Stiles' shoulder. It felt like more than he should ask for, but as long as Stiles was not pushing him away, he would stay. “Stiles, I shouldn't... I’m sorry. You know I never... I just wanted you to be safe,” Derek stated softly. He had thought, at the time, that leaving would draw attention away from Beacon Hills, but like most of his plans, it did not work.

 

“If you leave town again, Derek,” Stiles stated as he finally shrugged his shoulder to get rid of Derek’s hand, moving away enough to turn and look at the other alpha, “don't come back.”

 

“I'm not leaving again.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest with a faint frown, watching as a hundred different emotions seemed to cross over Stiles' face before he settled on a neutral expression. “Who is out there?” He nodded toward the woods in front of them, where the other pack was weaving through the trees randomly.

 

Stiles lifted his shoulders in a shrug, wetting his lips as he let his gaze drift out to the direction of the town border a few feet away. “I'm not sure. We've not been able to find out what they want yet,” answered Stiles with a heavy sigh. It definitely was not for lack of trying. “Whoever they are, they're keeping their motives very hidden, and that's what worries me.”

 

“We want to help,” Derek stated after a moment, making Stiles look back to him with a slightly furrowed brow. “The... _my_ pack. We want to help.” Stiles nodded a little, but did not say anything and Derek started to grow antsy from the quiet. Stiles did not do quiet and it unnerved him a lot. “We shouldn't have left.”

 

“You're right.” Stiles nodded with a frown and looked to Derek once again, crossing his arms over his chest, fingers tapping on his bicep. “You shouldn't have.”

 

Without another word, Stiles started to back away from Derek, making it a few feet away before he turned around and walked off, leaving Derek standing alone. Derek closed his eyes with a sigh, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as a howl could be heard in the distance that set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Something big was about to happen. There was a tension in the air that was almost tangible. Derek turned to head back to the Hale house, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction Stiles had gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles and Allison were alone in the kitchen the next morning. Their dad had already gone in to the station and Stiles would not be going in until that evening. They were quiet as they made their way around each other, making their own breakfasts. Not a word was spoken until they were seated at the table and Stiles sighed, poking at his cereal with the spoon in his hand. “I dreamt of Derek last night,” Stiles all but mumbled to the top of the table, though he knew that Allison could hear him clearly.

 

Her brow furrowed a little as she studied Stiles for a few moments. “You haven't had dreams of him in over a year,” commented Allison as she shifted in her seat to get more comfortable, crossing her legs at the ankles.

 

“It was different than before.” Stiles shifted uncomfortably in his seat, reaching up to run a hand over his buzzed hair, glancing over at Allison out of the corner of his eye before crossing an arm over his front, resting it on the table before his bowl. “Everything felt real. The rain, the wind, him standing next to me... It was almost like...”

 

“Like what?” She turned in her seat to fully face Stiles as she studied him, taking in the way he absently wet his lips and the way his heart was a little more unsteady than normal. “Stiles, what is it?”

 

Stiles set his spoon down and idly began to tap his fingers on the table top, trying to think of the best way to tell her. Finally, he groaned and said, “It was like that dream I had a few years back, before the witches showed up? Remember how I told everyone what was going to happen because I _saw_ it and no one believed me until the witches were here and they kidnapped Isaac, like I had said?”

 

“Stiles...” Allison tensed in her seat, gripping the edge of the table tight enough to leave nail marks in the surface. “What happened in your dream?”

 

Absently wetting his lips once again, Stiles stared at the top of the table before forcing himself to look over at the woman that had become his sister. “We died.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Stiles sighed softly, pausing his hands on the bowl he was drying at the sink. Allison had left for the office and Stiles had taken the opportunity to catch up on some housework the Stilinski's had gotten behind on. After setting aside the bowl in the drainer next to the sink, Stiles grabbed a plate out of the soapy water and started to wash it as he said, “The door is unlocked, Derek. You can come in.”

 

There was a moment of no movement before Derek slowly came in the back door off the kitchen, catching Stiles' attention only for a few seconds before he returned to the dishes. “Hi,” Derek said awkwardly after he shut the door and he crossed his arms over his chest, brow furrowing a little as he seemed to struggle with finding something to say.

 

“What do you want, Derek?” Stiles sighed heavily as he set the plate in the drainer, reaching into the sink to grab another piece of the dishes that needed washed. He frowned a little as he focused on scrubbing the plate in his hands clean.

 

“I know we can't make this right,” replied Derek, speaking slowly and softly, calculating each word carefully to make sure it was exactly what he was meaning to say. Words were never his strong suit. Actions were better than words, in his opinion. “We... _I_ just wanted you safe, Stiles. I need you to be safe.”

 

Stiles wet his lips and shook his head a little, rinsing off the plate in the side of the sink that was not filled with soapy water before starting to dry it. “No. You don't get to do this.” Stiles voice shook a little as he tried to keep a reign on his emotions. “I'm not ready to forgive you, Derek.”

 

“Stiles.”

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, stilling his hands to take a deep, shaky breath. Even after the two years Derek had been gone, Stiles could still hear what it was that Derek did not say; what it was that he meant with just a single word. Derek was not expecting Stiles to forgive or trust him, not for what he did. “Just... give me _time_ , Derek,” Stiles mumbled the words with a soft sigh, knowing that the other man could hear him as clearly as if he had spoken at full volume. “I need... I need time. Give me that. You _owe_ me that.”

 

It was unspoken that Derek owed him more than that, but neither man said it. Stiles nodded resolutely after Derek nodded minutely in reply, and he shoved his hand into the soapy water to grab another dish only to let out a hiss as he caught himself on one of the knives, the blade splitting the skin. Derek was there, at his side, gently hanging onto his hand as they both inspected the healing cut. The healing did not stop it from hurting but Stiles was unable to focus on that. Derek had instinctively gotten to his side in attempt to make things better, just like he had used to do before the pack left and before Stiles could heal like the rest of them.

 

Derek seemed to realize what he was doing and he quickly let go of Stiles, taking a step back with a faint, but not unheard, apology. Stiles nodded stiffly, unintentionally holding his breath as he stood there, clutching onto the edge of the sink as he tried to ward off all those memories and feelings of years past. It was not until Derek had silently, or it would have been silent if Stiles had not gotten werewolf senses, left the Stilinski house that Stiles let out a shaky laugh, closing his eyes as he sank down to sit on the ground while leaning against the counter.

 

Time. He needed time to accept the fact that Derek had left; that despite how terrible it had been, safety had been the alpha's number one thought. It had not been a great plan; but, when was Derek ever known for good plans? Stiles just needed time; time that he was not sure he had.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Scott came by the office earlier,” Allison said as she tapped her pen on the kitchen table next to the laptop she had open in front of her. She was on the phone with Stiles, who was sitting at his desk in the quiet station while practically all the other deputies were at home. John, himself, was resting up in his room. “We, uh, we talked a bit. I miss him.”

 

“I know,” replied Stiles as he ran a hand over his face, leaning back in his chair while letting his head tip backward. “Derek was at the house. He... well, there was a moment there that I almost wanted to forgive him.”

 

Allison smirked a little as she flicked her bangs back out of her eyes so she could see the screen better at the low growl she heard from her brother's end of the call. He never was good at controlling his emotions when it came to Derek, whether it for good or bad. “I am kind of glad they're back, though,” admitted Allison as she worried at her lower lip. More good werewolves meant more protection for Danny and their father. It just meant more protection. Even if they were not all in one pack, Allison knew that Derek would still drop anything to do what he could to protect Stiles, even if that meant protecting the sheriff and Danny instead. “I want things to be okay again; but, a part of me wonders if it can be.”

 

“Yeah, I... yeah.” Stiles nodded a little, swallowing around the cottony feeling he got in his mouth. He knew exactly what Allison meant, and neither one really needed to clarify as to why. So much had happened. “I... Can I help you?”

 

Allison’s brow furrowed at the sudden question from her brother, but then she realized that he was talking to someone in the station with him. “Stiles?” She tensed as a sinking feeling caused her heart to start rapidly beating somewhere around her middle. She could hear whoever was there with Stiles say that they were looking for him before the line went dead. “Stiles!”

 

The city mayor threw aside her phone and pushed herself up from the table. She grabbed nothing before running out of the front door toward the station, partially shifting on her way over. The lights were flickering inside when she got there and the place was trashed, but Stiles was nowhere to be found. Allison screamed, falling to her knees as the sound mixed with a pained roar that she did not realize she was capable of making, practically startling herself with the way it echoed through the darkened trees.

 

Allison shrugged off the assistance to stand that came minutes later in the form of Scott McCall at her side. “I'm getting him back,” she stated through clenched teeth as she gripped tightly to the edge of the desk to stop her from running off again in a rash, panicked action. “I will _not_ lose him.”

 

Scott shared a glance with Derek, who was silent in the doorway and looking unusually pale, before he looked back to Allison and said, “We'll help.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out a thing I made for this: [here](http://all-the-sick-things.tumblr.com/post/44694111775/tw-au-away-by-sourwulfur-we-want-to-help).


End file.
